


You had me (at hello)

by Lorelaia



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU- Bruce isn't an Avenger, M/M, Pornless Porn, Propositions, The Other Guy is amused, Tony Being Tony, Tony has a room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:24:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelaia/pseuds/Lorelaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Tony meet at a suitably impressive Stark Party (tm). Tony has a room. Obviously.</p>
<p>Bruce is an enormous fangirl who fangirls. The Other Guy is amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You had me (at hello)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelli113](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelli113/gifts).



The first thing Tony says to him is:

“Dr. Banner, your work is unparalleled.”

The second thing is:

“Hold this.”

It must have been _love_.

~*~*~*~

“So. Tony Stark, pleasure to meet you, blah blah, so Tuesday. Love the work, you have very green eyes.”

A siren wails brokenly in the background as a lone robot staggers around the kitchen, desperately puffing assorted things with a super-sized fire extinguisher. A small fire billows to its right. The robot studiously ignores it. Bruce offers his hand, self-conscious suddenly of the dirtied sleeve of his coat, and shakes Tony’s proffered hand. The fangirl in him faints.

“Bruce Banner. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

Another robot stumbles past, dragging the body of the villain who scant hours ago was busy laying waste to Stark Tower. A tall blond Adonis has his arm around the robot’s shoulder and is loudly exhorting THE HONOUR OF THIS FINE BATTLE while lazily swinging something that resembles a hammer, if they came in extra manly sizes. The robot’s arms are trembling. Adonis crows something about victory and doesn’t notice. Bruce awkwardly shifts on his pile of rubble and tries not to stare.

“Tony,” Mr. Stark tells him firmly, and Bruce’s inner fangirl revives long enough to faint again. Mr. Stark – Tony – sits down gingerly beside him in the rubble, dust floating down gently in the flickering lights to highlight him with an aura of gold. Bruce tries to remind himself that he is a very important professor and very important professors do not suddenly launch themselves at people and try to clean their tonsils with their tongues. Tony quirks an eyebrow, staring at him mischievously, and he honestly has no idea how someone can look so damn beautiful in an (artistically) ripped and tattered tuxedo. Then Tony smiles and Bruce’s libido enthusiastically reminds him that one of said rips just happens to be on the right backside of his pants. “Sorry about the party, got a little wild there, great times for all. Left the strippers on the plane and frankly, the alternative just didn’t make the cut.”

The alternative had been some creature that looked like an extra from the original series of Doctor Who. The getting wild bit had been said creature apparently deciding to try to destroy Stark Tower in the middle of what promised to be a very impressive party. The entertainment had been a bunch of unreasonably attractive party-goers suddenly throwing themselves into battle with the uninvited guest. Bruce isn’t entirely sure how the party constituted great times for all at all, except for Tony’s pants getting torn and giving him visual proof that the billionaire doesn’t like underwear. Bruce can work with that. _Oh_ , he can work that _good_.

Tony squints at him, tilting his head just so, and Bruce forcibly reminds his libido that he’s a VERY IMPORTANT PROFESSOR and it’s really not appropriate to get a hard-on like some teenage boy right at this moment. His libido turns green as the Other Guy reminds him that Tony Stark is sitting next to him. Bruce is pretty sure Tony gives people hard-ons just by breathing the same oxygen as he does. People probably burst from sexual tension if they sit next to him. Bruce feels like he might.

Something slow and teasing creeps along the curve of Tony’s lips. Bruce carefully squeezes his legs closer together and tries to look like more like an eminent professor and SHIELD consultant and less like a horny teenager. He’s not entirely sure he succeeds.

Tony bounces up, dusting off his pants, and the tears in his shirt and jacket nicely hint at the tanned skin and interesting burn of the famed arc reactor underneath. And _oh_ , the image of Tony watching him beneath those ridiculously long lashes and the teasing glimmers of skin are permanently etched in his mind. Bruce’s hand clenches in pre-emptive anticipation before he realizes Tony’s talking again.

“So,” Tony murmurs, voice low and husky, and doesn’t blink at all when one of the previously mentioned unbearably attractive party goers swishes past with another woman on her arm. Both of them roll their eyes at Tony. Bruce forcibly resists the urge to self-consciously suck in his stomach. “I have a room. Obviously. I live here. _Sooo_. Room.”

It occurs to Bruce that he’s just been propositioned by Tony Stark.

His inner fangirl explodes in a shower of blood. The Other Guy grunts something that might be amusement.

Carefully, Bruce pinches his arm. It hurts. He looks up at Tony Stark, Anthony E. Stark, DOCTOR Anthony E. Stark, scion of the Stark name, Iron Man, second in charge of the Avengers, independent consultant to SHIELD. Tony Stark, in artfully torn suit, not a hair out of place, grin gleaming with amusement and something else in the artificial light. Bruce pinches himself again. It still hurts. His libido makes victory faces at him.

“Oh _god_ yes,” he breathes, when Tony’s smile is starting to falter, and hurls himself to his feet.


End file.
